A Change Is Gonna Come
Comparing Dynasty ADP’s
Chapter 4
“HI THERE!” the girl replied.
Her voice pushed Joe’s heart over a cliff. Oh shit, there’s a girl living in my pipe! SHE MUST BE TINY! Joe scrambled for a witty first impression, but his mind was as still as a statue, leaving his mouth open in no man’s land.
“ARE YOU STILL THERE?!” the girl asked.
“Ya! Sorry, I’ve just never talked to anyone through a pipe before! I guess this is what telephones were like back in the day!” Joe laughed nervously. “What part of the Silo do you live in?”
“Silo?! I’m outside silly!”
Joe’s sailboat covers flew off his bed as he spasmed in disbelief! OH GOD, SHE’S A DEGENERATE SURFACE DWELLER! I shouldn’t be having this conversation!
“I’ve never talked to anyone from a Silo! So you’re part of a Channel with its own Division full of other members, right?! You must be super good at fantasy to be living down there, huh?!” she suggested.
“I know some things,” Joe said playing it cool. “Working on rankings now,” he said as he frantically filed through his father’s record collection. Let’s Bring It On Home Sam.
“OH REALLY!?” she asked. “Like AlphaDog rankings?”
“We don’t really use redraft ADP. We play dynasty, so it’s a lot different!” Joe said as he lit his Margarita Sunrise candle.
“How is it diff-”
“Well, the first thing you have to do is start off with Consensus Startup ADP!” Joe interrupted. “This is what tons of people are doing in their drafts, so it gives you a good idea of how players are actually valued.”
“Ya, I’m familiar with -”
“But it’s SUPER important in dynasty to focus on youth because they are the most valuable!” Joe continued. “We like QBs that are 28 or younger, WRs under 27, RBs on their rookie deals, so like 24 or younger, and TEs under 28.”
“Where do those ages come from?” the girl inquired.
Joe was caught off guard. “Oh, ummm, I think it’s because it takes a few years to build a good team, so you want younger players mainly,” Joe responded. “So ya, you may be reaching more on rookies and younger players five or six rounds ahead of their normal ADP, but as you can see with SuperFlex Startup ADPs, 27 of the first 36 players (75%) and 38 of the top 48 players (79%) have been in the league for four seasons or less! Most of the best players are super young!” Damn, great answer Joe!
“Huh, VERY interesting,” she replied. “Why don’t you just compete immediately instead of building for a year or two down the road?”
Joe sat up in his bed with a bewildered expression.
“I mean, I could win year one if I really wanted to but -”
“BUT, you’ve never gone ALL THE WAY, HAVE YOU?!”
Joe’s head dropped and his lips compressed into a flat frown. “I’m saving myself for the right team to come along is all,” he said sheepishly.
The pipe amplified the girl’s laughter into a thunderclap that shook Joe to the core. Damn, even the surface mutants don’t like me.
“That’s cute! I like that!!” she said. “Would you like to do me a favor?”
Joe’s interest was resurrected. Girls love it when you do stuff for them! “Sure,” he said cautiously.
“Could you create the same ADP chart, but for a WIN-NOW team based on season-long production!? I need it for a 12-team, 4-point passing TD, start 10, PPR league with a 1.5 PPR for TEs, please! You know, the most common league type. Oh and if you could do it for the 2024 offseason and include rookies with their final year of college production, that would be great! I love that Old World stuff! THANKS!!!”
“Yeah, ok.”
“Kay, BYE!”
“Wait, what’s your name and how do I get you this ADP?!” Joe desperately shouted.
“Oh, I’ll throw more trash down and you can meet me outside!” she replied “My name is Mary!”
“My name is Joe!”
There was no response. I think she heard me.
“She sounds nice, doesn’t she Sauron?” Joe said as the furry dark lord munched on pellets. I don’t know anyone who has ever left the Silo, it’s forbidden! I might as well be going to the Moon. But that makes me want to do it even more! Breaking the rules - FOR A GIRL! I have to make sure I do a good job with this special project for her.
I wonder how many of these rookies were productive in the pros?
There are so few players whose draft capital matches their production!
According to my history book’s notes, a lot of the productive QBs like Dak, Purdy, Goff, and Tua were discounted because they were viewed as products of their situations and not as talented as their elite peers. But that makes no sense! These players enjoyed long, productive careers in the league’s best environments! I guess people in the Old World were just as hard to please.
Damn, San Francisco must have had one hell of a squad! They have the most productive players in the top 156 with 9, followed by Buffalo with 7!
Joe went to his door, but before he could open it the hatch abruptly raised, and a large silhouette stood before him staring down with its arms crossed.
Chapter 5
“OH! HEY DAD!” Joe said surprised.
Jim scanned the room, “Motown, candles, and a white towel sprawled out on the bed. Looks like you were getting ready for a good time, huh? Where’s she at?”
“Where’s who at?” Joe said looking around his room.
“I heard you talking to a girl,” Jim said as he looked under his son’s bed and in his closet.
“OH! She’s not here! She’s on the surf - I MEAN, I DON’T WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!” Joe said with a crooked smile.
Jim stood across Joe with his hands clenched, waiting for his son to crack.
TING, TING! The sound of the object broke the silence while it traveled down Joe’s pipe to his bed. They both remained motionless in their showdown. Jim turned around and picked up the rock. On it was crudely painted smiley face with “Thank You!” inscribed on the back.
“Oh YA! Dad, I’ve been meaning to tell ya, this pipe has been acting up,” Joe said anxiously.
Jim took a deep breath through his large nostrils, “You smell that?”
“Margarita Sunrise?” Joe replied with an exaggerated grin.
Jim squeezed the rock and slowly nodded, “Let’s go see your uncle.”
The Magistrate stood with his back towards Joe, admiring an oversized painting of a lion roaring after a fresh kill. Jim sat close to his brother, glaring at his son with disappointment. A long boardroom table separated Joe from his father and the Magistrate. Joe stared at the rock at the center of the table, which smiled back at him.
“Son, your daddy tells me that you’ve been fraternizing with some unsightly folk now,” the Magistrate opened. “This has gotten your old man all tore up, but don’t worry now, you're not in trouble, I just reckoned we could have a nice little chat is all,” he said as he turned around with his arms extended towards Joe.
The Magistrate was similar in build to his brother Jim but was completely different in appearance. He wore a cream-colored checkered suit contrasted by his charcoal cowboy hat. His face glimmered with sweat like the gold chain that peeked through his white dress shirt. But most striking was his long white hair which fell freely to his shoulders.
“When we were your age, we never dreamed of building a place like this,” the Magistrate continued as he strutted through the room. “Dynasty hadn’t come around now, so people watched football just for the mere enjoyment,” he said looking up. “I know it's hard to believe, but there were no real stakes. No deeper understanding of the game.” The Magistrate stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head at the ground. “Your daddy and I fought bravely in the Content Wars, to bring us out of the Fallen World, and into the New One!” he said with a clenched fist. “Now, I reckon that you thought you were doing the right thing. You were just wanting to spread the good news!” the Magistrate said slapping his knee and looking back at his brother. “Be a light to the world! I appreciate the wonderful enthusiasm, but understand Joey… they ain’t ready. Instead, I got a better idea!” he said snapping his fingers. “What are you good at son?!” Tim said with a huge grin.
“Well, I like to think that I help the people of our Division,” Joe replied nodding. “Data Mining and contributing to the Analytics Association keeps me pretty active. I’m not very good at building tools or creating algorithms, but I feel like I make up for it with my love for football history, which I use to generate probabilities. I also participate in the Trading Philosophy Club, the Strategy Debate Team, and the Rookie Scouting Fraternity. My dad has taught me a lot as well,” Joe said raising his gaze towards his father.
“That’s swell son,” Tim said. “We are over 200 strong down here, so let’s stop with this galavanting and instead refocus those hormones into protecting all the beautiful things that your Uncle Timmy and your daddy have built down here! Now doesn’t that sound nice!?
“Your uncle is right Joe,” Jim said. “I need you down here and I need you to be better. You’re all I got.”
With his leg up on a chair the Magistrate leaned in and softly placed his hand on Joe’s shoulder. Tim whispered, “When was the last time you WoRPed son?”
“Oh, um, I don’t know, a day or two ago I guess,” Joe replied.
Tim motioned his way to a glass case in the corner of the room. He pulled out the helmet and made his way back to Joe. The entire room reflected off the mirror-like chrome finish of the headgear. Tim extended the Mind WoRPer towards Joe.
The Mind WoRPer was the crown jewel of their Silo and regarded as the most powerful tool that any Channel possessed. Created by the famed brothers known as the Tinkerer and the Scientist, the device could map out the most powerful players in a league, regardless of settings. With it, Tim was quickly elected Magistrate, leading his Division of members to unprecedented fantasy success.
“Now, let’s have some fun now! Would you do me the honor of running the WoRP using the same settings you were gonna do for that hussy?” Tim said.
With the press of a button, Joe lowered the helmet’s visor, and the world went pitch black. Only a pin-hole-sized light flickered in the distance for Joe. The light flashed and a library of data flooded into his mind.
“Well! Don’t keep us waiting now, tell us what you see sweetpea!” Tim exclaimed.
“I see a surprisingly low number of QBs at the top compared to all the other positions.
A lot more TEs than I expected.
I count only 17 rookies that broke into the top 156 best WoRP players (10.9%).
You could build a formidable team pretty easily by focusing on WRs and taking the value that falls to you with the older, less flashy players at the other positions.
It would be really hard to truly know the most valuable players in a league if you only went off points production and couldn’t WoRP.”
Joe flicked the visor up and gave the helmet back to the Magistrate.
“You got a bright future son,” Tim said slapping his nephew on the shoulder. “Don’t squander it.”
Chapter 6
Tim pulled out the crystal decanter of bourbon and pressed two glasses with his fingers. He wandered slowly to his brother and poured out the spirit. Jim swirled the glass, mesmerized by its maple-red tincture as it beamed in the low-lit study.
“Man, oh man! What a day!” Tim exhaled as he poured himself a glass and melted into his leather armchair. “I don’t what’s worse: not knowing what to do next or realizing you don’t have the mustard to get it done.” Jim sat silently tracing the exposed plumbing that snaked along the wall and ceiling. It must have taken forever to build this place.
“Look baby brother, I’ll get down to brass tacks here,” Tim continued. “We got a mighty fine thing going down here. Now we both agreed we would do this together and I know you had to take a break to do some soul-searching, and I’ve remained patient. But it’s time to move forward and show everyone the way. We need to go on the offensive, but I need your help. I got too many biscuits on my plate but not enough people to butter them. I want ya to join me as co-council leader.”
“I barely get enough time with Joe. I need to do a better job with him,” Jim replied. “I don’t know.”
“That’s precisely why I think this will be good for ya,” Tim countered. “We all go through tough times. Best way to dig out of them is to do what we do best. Get back to your old self!”
Jim looked up at his brother and took a large swig of his bourbon, “I don’t think I deserve it after what happened. Nothing is the same.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, you’re STILL hung up on that! He made his choice, don’t follow him down into the potter’s ground. And good riddance as far as I’m concerned,” Tim belched. “Let’s look forward to the future and our legacy,” he said, raising his glass.
How can I be confident of the future if I regret the past? Jim took a long pause before his sight gravitated towards the corner of the room. There hung a photograph of himself with his brother. It was taken the day they opened the Silo. They were both smiling. “I’ll think about it,” Jim conceited.
“That’s my baby brother,” Tim winked. “Cheers.”
